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"STAY AT HOME"
by
Ann Wolf
1986
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Glass makes both beautiful and colorful shadows.
(©2009, C.J. Peiffer)
Sunday, September 6, 2009
STAY AT HOME - Shadow Shot Sunday
Saturday, September 5, 2009
ERASING THE PAST - short fiction
This short story is in response to
Click on the above link to join in or read other entries.
Mega challenge:
Spam, perpetual motion, sprinkle, telephone pole, stains, alphabetical, surgery, flattery, liberty, preservation, shadows, singularity, Florida, caterpillars, copy
(Words from the challenge are in bold face in the story.)
After a morning filled with boring meetings, Ashley sat at her desk deleting hundreds of spam messages that had accumulated over her summer break. It was the first of three in-service days at the school where she had been teaching Social Studies for nearly three decades. A thousand human perpetual motion machines would show up on Thursday morning.
Ashley wasn’t sure she was ready for the preteens. The previous spring, her mother had died. Then she discovered that her brother, a financial planner, had embezzled everyone’s investments including her own and her mother’s, leaving Ashley and her sister to borrow money for the funeral. Over the summer, Ashley's landlord threw her out because she had left her tub overflow into his apartment. To make things worse, Ashley was going through menopause, which caused extreme crankiness. With those problems and her surgery in June, she didn’t feel like herself. But Ashley was determined to put all of that behind her.
Her sister Marilyn had suggested a sabbatical for Ashley to join her in Florida, but her older sister had never stopped bossing her around. Ashley preferred her liberty to a semester with an overbearing sibling. Besides, with no savings, she couldn’t afford a leave of absence. She was sure she could handle returning to work.
Once the junk mail had been deleted, Ashley popped a few aspirin, then found her printed class lists and began to copy students’ names into her electronic grade book in alphabetical order. She recognized family names of students she had taught in the past, some welcome and some sure to sprinkle her classes with a few troublemakers. Her right hand began to tremble as she typed the last of the names.
She attempted to deal with disruptive students with humor and flattery, or anything else that assured the preservation of her sanity, but she was not always successful. She believed in the singularity of each student and made a supreme effort not to force them all into the same mold, but there were always a few incorrigible ones who drove her crazy anyway. She dug in her purse for a valium.
When Ashley peered through the slats of the blinds on her classroom’s windows, she realized that shadows had grown long. It was time to go home.
Ever since the accident, she was leery of driving, especially after dark. In the evening dusk, Ashley’s car inched out of the parking lot as slowly as a caterpillar. A child on a bike pedaled past the school's driveway. With a piercing pain in her head, Ashley flashed back to that day in June.
On the last day of school in the spring, she had stayed late to make sure all grades were recorded and her classroom was ready for summer cleaning. After all her troubles, she felt as if she had just barely survived the last grueling days of the school year without falling apart. It was nearly dark as she left the building. When she drove from the school parking lot, she saw her nemesis Billy Brandoff on his bike. She had a nearly uncontrollable urge to run him down. She aimed for him and stepped on the gas.
After a morning filled with boring meetings, Ashley sat at her desk deleting hundreds of spam messages that had accumulated over her summer break. It was the first of three in-service days at the school where she had been teaching Social Studies for nearly three decades. A thousand human perpetual motion machines would show up on Thursday morning.
Ashley wasn’t sure she was ready for the preteens. The previous spring, her mother had died. Then she discovered that her brother, a financial planner, had embezzled everyone’s investments including her own and her mother’s, leaving Ashley and her sister to borrow money for the funeral. Over the summer, Ashley's landlord threw her out because she had left her tub overflow into his apartment. To make things worse, Ashley was going through menopause, which caused extreme crankiness. With those problems and her surgery in June, she didn’t feel like herself. But Ashley was determined to put all of that behind her.
Her sister Marilyn had suggested a sabbatical for Ashley to join her in Florida, but her older sister had never stopped bossing her around. Ashley preferred her liberty to a semester with an overbearing sibling. Besides, with no savings, she couldn’t afford a leave of absence. She was sure she could handle returning to work.
Once the junk mail had been deleted, Ashley popped a few aspirin, then found her printed class lists and began to copy students’ names into her electronic grade book in alphabetical order. She recognized family names of students she had taught in the past, some welcome and some sure to sprinkle her classes with a few troublemakers. Her right hand began to tremble as she typed the last of the names.
She attempted to deal with disruptive students with humor and flattery, or anything else that assured the preservation of her sanity, but she was not always successful. She believed in the singularity of each student and made a supreme effort not to force them all into the same mold, but there were always a few incorrigible ones who drove her crazy anyway. She dug in her purse for a valium.
When Ashley peered through the slats of the blinds on her classroom’s windows, she realized that shadows had grown long. It was time to go home.
Ever since the accident, she was leery of driving, especially after dark. In the evening dusk, Ashley’s car inched out of the parking lot as slowly as a caterpillar. A child on a bike pedaled past the school's driveway. With a piercing pain in her head, Ashley flashed back to that day in June.
On the last day of school in the spring, she had stayed late to make sure all grades were recorded and her classroom was ready for summer cleaning. After all her troubles, she felt as if she had just barely survived the last grueling days of the school year without falling apart. It was nearly dark as she left the building. When she drove from the school parking lot, she saw her nemesis Billy Brandoff on his bike. She had a nearly uncontrollable urge to run him down. She aimed for him and stepped on the gas.
At the last second, she had swerved to avoid hitting the boy. Instead, she ran head-on into a telephone pole, resulting in her fractured skull. Afterward, she claimed she had no memory of the event. No one suspected it was anything but a freak accident, so there was no stain on her driving record nor on her teaching credentials.
Ashley snapped back to the present. Billy was at the high school now and she hadn’t seen any Brandoffs on her class lists for this school year. Trying to control the tick in her left eye, Ashley vowed to drive home very carefully and slowly every day. She would attempt to control her temper.
And if she couldn’t, she’d just have to think of a better way of erasing her troublesome students.
(©2009, C.J. Peiffer)
Friday, September 4, 2009
FOR LOVE OR MONEY - Friday Flash 55
"MOOlah 2"
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original drawing in ink and colored pencil
by
C.J. Peiffer
This post is in response to
The idea is to write a story in exactly 55 words.
Click on the yellow link above to join the fun or read others’ stories.
“The first time I married for love. This time I married for money,” Connie announced proudly.
“What happened to your first husband?” Serena asked.
“He’s in jail for fraud.”
“What did he do?”
“That S.O.B. forged checks and stole all my money.”
Serena thought about Connie’s second marriage for a second, then nodded. “Good move.”
(©2009, C.J. Peiffer)
Sunday, August 30, 2009
LET'S PLAY
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(©2009, C.J. Peiffer)
Saturday, August 29, 2009
DON'T CRY OVER SPILT MILK - Short Fiction
This short story is in response to
Click on the above link to join in or read other entries.
Mega challenge:
records, impulsive, really cool, bread crumbs, angels, Sponge Bob, magical moment, back and forth, suffering, good fences make good neighbors, side effects are generally mild, clingy, rooster, samples, curiosity
(Words from the challenge are in bold face in the story.)
“Hey, can you hand me a sponge, Bob?” Nell asked as her husband entered the back door. She was on the floor in front of the kitchen cabinets, soaking up milk with paper towels.
“I thought they said side effects are generally mild,” Bob snapped as he handed her a damp sponge from the sink. “You’ve been dropping things for three days. First it was the container of bread crumbs, then a mug of tea, silverware, a plate, and now this.” He kicked the empty milk carton out of the way.
“Dr. Jamison said that I’d stop suffering these episodes after I get used to the new medication.”
“Well, for heavens sake, Nell, don’t try to hold anything that can spill or break or make a mess.”
“What should I do when you’re not here? Stop eating?”
“That wouldn’t be a bad idea. You could stand to lose a ton.”
Nell knew she had gained about ten pounds over the last months due to lack of exercise. She gritted her teeth, deciding not to let him goad her.
Nell changed the subject. “Your sister called. She has business in the city and wants to stay with us for a week or so. Should I tell her it’s okay?”
“Oh, yeah, that will make for some magical moments, the two of us going back and forth, arguing about everything that ever happened since we were toddlers.”
“What do you have against your sister? I think she’s really cool.”
“You know we’ve never gotten along. She’s clingy and impulsive. And she’s up with the roosters and will wake us at four in the morning. And when I’m at work, I know her curiosity will have her going through the business records in my office upstairs.”
Bob paced in front of his wife. “You know how they say good fences make good neighbors? Well long distance makes good relatives.”
“You’re going to have to call her to tell her she can’t come. I won’t do it for you,” Nell said.
Bob snapped, “Are you going to sit on the floor the rest of the day?”
“Can you please help me up?”
Bob placed his arms under Nell’s arm pits to pull her from the floor and back into her wheel chair. “I wish you wouldn’t slide out of your chair to clean up your messes. You just do it to make me feel guilty.”
Nell grimaced. “Who's going to help me. Are some angels going to show up to wipe the floor? Besides, I knew you’d be home for lunch soon so I thought I'd start cleaning it up so you wouldn't have to.”
Bob set his jaw and shook his head.
Nell wheeled herself from the kitchen, tired of Bob’s impatience ever since the accident.
Bob stewed in the kitchen. Nell was more of a pain-in-the-ass to him now than before the accident. He not only had to put up with a woman he didn’t love, but he had to do everything for her and the housework, too. His girlfriend was getting impatient.
Now he was forced to play the loving husband role, at least around others, so no one would be suspicious. The brake failure was supposed to kill his wife and now he was strapped with a paraplegic. He had rejected poison because he knew the coroner would have taken blood and urine samples and might have suspected foul play.
If he divorced her, he wouldn’t get the pending fortune Nell’s father had left her. Divorcing a cripple would ruin his business. His associates and clients would think he was a cad. What a mess she had made for him.
In the living room, Nell turned on the stereo. She was angry, but she had a plan. Bob would be in Chicago on business the entire upcoming week. She had already told him she would have a friend in to check on her. The reality was that five friends were going to show up to pack her belongings. Since the accident, she hadn’t been able to go upstairs. They would go through Bob’s office to search for evidence of his affair. Her friend Britt, who always suspected the accident wasn’t really an accident, would make a copy of Bob's hard drive.
Nell had already had her lawyer start the divorce process. He assured Nell if they could find evidence of Bob’s rigging her “accident” he wouldn’t get any of her father’s money.
There was an opening at an assisted living facility where Nell could stay and receive physical therapy until the condo she had purchased was retrofitted to accommodate her special needs. Her father's bank was more than willing to approve a loan until her father's vast estate was settled.
Wouldn’t Bob be surprised the day the divorce papers were Fed Exed to his Chicago hotel? He would try to call her but there would be no answer. And then he’d be rid of her ---albeit not exactly as he wanted.
Maybe Nell couldn’t walk, but she certainly wasn’t helpless.
“Hey, can you hand me a sponge, Bob?” Nell asked as her husband entered the back door. She was on the floor in front of the kitchen cabinets, soaking up milk with paper towels.
“I thought they said side effects are generally mild,” Bob snapped as he handed her a damp sponge from the sink. “You’ve been dropping things for three days. First it was the container of bread crumbs, then a mug of tea, silverware, a plate, and now this.” He kicked the empty milk carton out of the way.
“Dr. Jamison said that I’d stop suffering these episodes after I get used to the new medication.”
“Well, for heavens sake, Nell, don’t try to hold anything that can spill or break or make a mess.”
“What should I do when you’re not here? Stop eating?”
“That wouldn’t be a bad idea. You could stand to lose a ton.”
Nell knew she had gained about ten pounds over the last months due to lack of exercise. She gritted her teeth, deciding not to let him goad her.
Nell changed the subject. “Your sister called. She has business in the city and wants to stay with us for a week or so. Should I tell her it’s okay?”
“Oh, yeah, that will make for some magical moments, the two of us going back and forth, arguing about everything that ever happened since we were toddlers.”
“What do you have against your sister? I think she’s really cool.”
“You know we’ve never gotten along. She’s clingy and impulsive. And she’s up with the roosters and will wake us at four in the morning. And when I’m at work, I know her curiosity will have her going through the business records in my office upstairs.”
Bob paced in front of his wife. “You know how they say good fences make good neighbors? Well long distance makes good relatives.”
“You’re going to have to call her to tell her she can’t come. I won’t do it for you,” Nell said.
Bob snapped, “Are you going to sit on the floor the rest of the day?”
“Can you please help me up?”
Bob placed his arms under Nell’s arm pits to pull her from the floor and back into her wheel chair. “I wish you wouldn’t slide out of your chair to clean up your messes. You just do it to make me feel guilty.”
Nell grimaced. “Who's going to help me. Are some angels going to show up to wipe the floor? Besides, I knew you’d be home for lunch soon so I thought I'd start cleaning it up so you wouldn't have to.”
Bob set his jaw and shook his head.
Nell wheeled herself from the kitchen, tired of Bob’s impatience ever since the accident.
Bob stewed in the kitchen. Nell was more of a pain-in-the-ass to him now than before the accident. He not only had to put up with a woman he didn’t love, but he had to do everything for her and the housework, too. His girlfriend was getting impatient.
Now he was forced to play the loving husband role, at least around others, so no one would be suspicious. The brake failure was supposed to kill his wife and now he was strapped with a paraplegic. He had rejected poison because he knew the coroner would have taken blood and urine samples and might have suspected foul play.
If he divorced her, he wouldn’t get the pending fortune Nell’s father had left her. Divorcing a cripple would ruin his business. His associates and clients would think he was a cad. What a mess she had made for him.
In the living room, Nell turned on the stereo. She was angry, but she had a plan. Bob would be in Chicago on business the entire upcoming week. She had already told him she would have a friend in to check on her. The reality was that five friends were going to show up to pack her belongings. Since the accident, she hadn’t been able to go upstairs. They would go through Bob’s office to search for evidence of his affair. Her friend Britt, who always suspected the accident wasn’t really an accident, would make a copy of Bob's hard drive.
Nell had already had her lawyer start the divorce process. He assured Nell if they could find evidence of Bob’s rigging her “accident” he wouldn’t get any of her father’s money.
There was an opening at an assisted living facility where Nell could stay and receive physical therapy until the condo she had purchased was retrofitted to accommodate her special needs. Her father's bank was more than willing to approve a loan until her father's vast estate was settled.
Wouldn’t Bob be surprised the day the divorce papers were Fed Exed to his Chicago hotel? He would try to call her but there would be no answer. And then he’d be rid of her ---albeit not exactly as he wanted.
Maybe Nell couldn’t walk, but she certainly wasn’t helpless.
(©2009, C.J. Peiffer)
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